


The Way It Should Have Been

by your_brain_on_elfroot



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 01:30:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4545018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_brain_on_elfroot/pseuds/your_brain_on_elfroot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Lady Aeducan and Gorim are both sent into the deep roads as punishent for the death of Trian.<br/>Thanks to horticulturalcephalopod on tumblr, a fellow Gorim fan, who inspired this!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

                Gartha kicked the shackles away from her in anger. How long had Bhelen been planning that assault? How long had he wanted to overthrow the family for his own mobility?

“Bhelen will pay for this! By my own hand!” She yelled, shaking the prison cell gate. Nothing could convince the assembly of her innocence because Bhelen along with that rotten Ivo and lying Scout made sure of it. She shook the gate again, ignoring the pain as rusted shards of metal bit into her palms. The lack of response from the guards fuelled her rage further and she screamed out, kicking the gate. The citizens of Orzammar had already begun to rid their minds of her existence.

                The tattered prison robes she had been given clung to her body with sweat. There was no calming her down, no stopping the fire in her chest that Bhelen’s betrayal ignited. Trian was neither kind nor agreeable, but no one should betray their family, far less murder them. In her rage she could kill the entire assembly if she escaped. If her own father could think she was guilty, why not prove him right? Why not show them all that she was vicious? Gartha slumped down in the corner of the cell, sweat still running down her neck and dripping off her nose. Thoughts of Gorim crossed her mind. Where was he? Had he been hurt? Was the assembly deciding his fate? Even though Gartha wished that the day did no go as it did, she did not want to return to Orzammar. Bhelen had revealed what he really was, a schemer and an opportunist who was willing to destroy his family. She could not stomach sharing the Aeducan name with him. She shuddered to think about the punishment Gorim would face at Bhelen’s judgement. If things were good, they would be banished to the surface together. If things were bad, one may live while the other died. If Gorim was taken from her forever, then there was nothing left.

                Her rage boiled again and she clenched her fists at the thought of Gorim dying or suffering because of Bhelen. Standing up again, she paced the cell, huffing every few steps. “I demand to speak with my father!” Gartha said, her face pressed against the bars of the gate. When there was no reply, she rattled the gate again. This time, a guard trudged in, baton in hand. “Silence!” he bellowed “I’ve heard enough of you. Speak again and I see to it that your fellow conspirator has an _accident_.” Gartha stepped away from the gate with a push. Her ire would do nothing but incriminate them further.

                Deciding to sit down again, Gartha went to the corner of the cell. The stone floor was cold against her legs, but it had a calming effect on her heated body. Her thoughts drifted yet again to Gorim as she wondered where he was. Idly, she stretched her hand above her head and ran her fingers across the stone wall; it’s coolness a pleasant sensation against her tired hands. She trailed her fingers lower, loosening dust and several small stones. Squinting, she shuffled forward to survey the oddity in the wall. She dusted her hands over it, shaking loose more dust which caused something small to fall into her lap. It was a ball of linen about the size of her fist and it was packed with dirt and stones. Looking back up to the wall, Gartha saw that the linen was in fact plugging a hole. Peering into it, she realised that it was made to look into the neighbouring cell. Although her eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness of the other room, Gartha was sure she saw the form of someone sitting at the opposite end.


	2. Chapter 2

     She blinked a few times and focused. The soft sound of pebbles falling from the wall caught the person’s attention and they lifted their head. Gartha pressed her face closer, dust getting into her eyes. “Psst.” She said quietly, hoping to make them notice her.  
“Who is that?” They replied, standing up.  
She sighed a breath of relief, it was Gorim. Not wanting to alert of the guards of inter-prisoner communication, (something that they would pay attention to) she stuck her fingers through the hole and wiggled them.  
“Over here, Gorim. We must be quiet.” He moved over to her quickly and touched her fingers in disbelief.  
“Lady Aeducan,” he said, almost inaudibly “you’re still here.”  
“Is everything fine Gorim? Are you hurt?”  
“No, no harm came to me. And you, Gartha?”  
Although she was relieved at finding him, the reality of facing the Assembly’s decision made bile rise in her throat. She exhaled loudly, the hatred for Bhelen resurging in her veins.  
“As good as I can be. I should have killed Bhelen when I had the chance. The fool! All of this waiting and imprisonment would be worth if he was dead. He should be punished. The Assembly should be deciding his fate, not ours”  
“Aye. I would like nothing more than to see him at the end of my sword.”

  
      Gorim noticed the blood on Gartha’s hand but he knew better than to ask her about it. Turning her palm upward he began pulling out flecks of metal from her fingers and palm. “It’s nothing.” She said, trying to pull her hand away. Gorim ignored her attempt, and kept his grim firm, splaying her hand in his to search for more pieces between her fingers. The shards were few, but deep, almost completely buried in her skin. Gorim moved gently, trying his best not to hurt her. After plucking the last one from her palm, he wiped the tacky blood away and asked for her other hand. She grumbled, but moved her left hand out and gave him her right. This hand was worse. Her fingertips were sliced open with granules of rust stuck in corners. Carefully, he used the hem of his tunic to wipe it away. Gartha drew a long breath as he removed a rather stubborn shard form her thumb. Thankfully, the bleeding had lessened and he ran his fingers along her hand again, ensuring that all shards were removed.  
“You really gave it to that gate.” he muttered when he was done, gingerly entwining their fingers. Gartha chuckled and thanked him. She turned to face the wall and leaned her forehead against it. Her wrist ached from being bent through the hole in the wall and she was sure Gorim was uncomfortable as well. However, this minor discomfort was nothing compared to the possibility of never seeing each other again.

  
      They sat in silence, their fingers uncomfortably locked through the small space. Gorim leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. He thought about times when they struggled to share a few moments alone. There were days where their only intimate contact would be a note hastily scribbled on a scrap of parchment, a wink across the room or the touching of knees under a table. Being of different castes was difficult on them both. He was only fit to be her second, nothing more. On countless occasions, Trian or Endrin introduced Gartha to a jittery young noble, who hoped to gain her favour. Every time however, she would turn him away, finding a reason to leave. Gorim never got jealous, or bothered for he remembered what she said to him when he had initially expressed concern. “You’re mine, Gorim Saelec. Nobody can change that.”

  
      She tightened her grip on Gorim’s fingers, drawing his attention back to her. Her voice was soft, almost inaudible “Remember the time Trian almost caught us?” Gorim stifled a laugh in reply. He remembered the day fondly. They had attempted to have a private moment before attending the Trials of Blood a year prior. They were so distracted and enraptured by each other that they did not hear Trian’s approaching footsteps. The sound of the door opening however caught Gartha’s attention and she shoved Gorim to the ground. Thankfully, Trian’s embarrassment at seeing his sister in her small clothes distracted him from asking about the loud thud, which was Gorim falling to the floor.  
“At least he wasn’t there on your name day.” Gorim added. Gartha bit her fist in attempt to stifle her laughter.  
“You’re very inappropriate,” she muttered in reply “but that was my best name day.” Their reminiscing was interrupted by the sound of the dungeon gate being opened. Someone was coming to see them.


	3. Chapter 3

                Gorim kissed Gartha’s hand one more time and began putting the fallen pebbles back into the hole. She balled up the linen and stuffed it into the wall. The remaining pebbles were used to fill the spaces around the linen and some of the larger stones were placed in front, giving the image of a smooth wall. By the time the guards opened the dungeon gate, she had wiped the dust from her fingers and moved to the opposite side of the cell. More footsteps followed and Gartha stood up, eager to see who it was.

                Lord Harrowmont approached the cell, and waved the guards away.

“Am I to be taken to the Assembly now?” Gartha asked, eager to present her innocence to them.

“Lady Aeducan,” he said, avoiding eye contact “the assembly will not call for you.”

“Nug shit!” Gorim yelled from the neighbouring cell. “She is entitled to an appearance before them.”

Gartha let out a frustrated groan. “We deserve-“

But Lord Harrowmont raised hand to silence her. “Bhelen took Trian’s place in the Assembly and moved against you with more than half of the nobles on his side. You and your second were condemned immediately.”

                His words took some time to register in Gartha’s mind. _Condemned immediately_. Bhelen had surpassed tradition and the laws of the assembly. There was no going back now, no proving her innocence. Harrowmont stepped back in surprise as Gartha kicked the gate. “He did this to become king. The wretch! So what happens now? Are Gorim and I to be sent to the surface? Forgotten by Orzammar and unjustly punished?”

Harrowmont shook his head and sucked a deep breath before he answered.

“I tried. I did, but Bhelen denied it. You and Gorim are to be sent into the Deep Roads, to battle Darkspawn, until death.”

                She sank to the ground, her grip on the gate the only thing keeping her from falling flat. The bile rising in her throat sent her into a fit of coughing and sputtering. The reality of what occurred winded her. Trian dead. Bhelen in the Assembly. She and Gorim sent to their deaths. Bhelen might as well cut their throats. She wondered if family meant anything to him. Tears of rage burned her eyes. This is what true despair felt like.

“What about King Endrin? I assume he approves of losing two children in one day?” Gorim spat.

Harrowmont sighed. “King Endrin has fallen ill at the news.”

Gartha was not prepared for Harrowmont’s answer. Their house now had only one member standing. With a loud groan, Gartha leaned forward and rest her head on the gate. She suddenly felt as if she was falling; hurtling to the farthest reaches of the Deep Roads. It felt as if she had liquid in her skull, splashing around no matter how still she tried to sit. Her skin felt cold even though she was sweating and the very fabric of her robes was like metal grating on her skin.

“Is there no way to amend this? My lady deserves justice!” Gorim’s voice was raw and pained. Even now as they faced death, Gartha was his priority.

“There is hope still. The Grey Warden who was here, Duncan, you may still be able to reach in the Deep Roads. The tunnels where you will be sent are linked to those he will be in. Find him, and you both can make it to the surface.”

“The Wardens take criminals?” Gartha asked her voice raspy with bile.

“Criminals are not strangers to the Wardens.” Harrowmont replied, noticing her paleness and stooping to her level.

“She is not a criminal.” Gorim declared, his face pressed against the bars. Harrowmont sighed and shook his head. Despite the testimonials of Bhelen, Ivo and the scout and seeing Gartha among the bodies of Trian and his men, Harrowmont still could not bring himself to believe that she was responsible.

“Time’s up!” A guard said, as he approached with the keys to the cells. Harrowmont whispered an apology to Gartha and walked over to Gorim’s cell to do the same. He walked to the end of the dungeon and exited through the large iron doors. With her head still spinning, Gartha stood up. The cell gate opened with a loud creak and the guard took her by the elbow, leading her out.


End file.
